I Don't Handle Rejection Well
by LectureMe
Summary: Stiles could say he saw it coming, even says he was waiting for it. When it did finally come he never expected it to be this bad, he didn't think he would lose everything. Stiles doesn't handle rejection well, and especially not from all of his supposed 'friends'. Muilti-Chaptered Fanfic, my first one, too. Be nice... Shy
1. Chapter One

Chapter one.

I don't know why, but this time it was different. Typically I would brush off such a comment, faking a smile and return it with a snarky remark as is my way to dodge anything of this fashion. This time, though, the tone of the voice, the gestures, are both more harsh and serious then previous occasions. They don't hesitate, nor do they show any form of mercy for my feelings, which makes me question even deeper how much they cared about me.

The speaker crosses their arms, waiting impatiently for a reaction. Not knowing what to do in this situation I turn to good ol' humor and with a goofy smile I answer, though being careful to choose my words correctly, "What do you get for a prize?"

They raise a perfectly arched eyebrow at me, "Prize? What are you talking about?"

_ I don't want to be here._ I feel my knees getting weak, my arms have goose bumps. I try to focus on this situation and keep my composure, but I can feel myself start to react to bad news the only way it knows how. Panic.

"You know, its only been 12 hours since the last time. Someone must be handing out prizes for fastest breakup time or something." I quickly blurt out.

"It's done, Stiliski."

They walk away after that, leaving me alone in my thoughts. You know, the ones that want to suffocate me. I know you may be wondering, 'who would even go out with you in the first place?' it's weird, I know. I'm not the most attractive guy, and I'm not popular or have any special skills worth mentioning but Sarah and I clicked. We met during Scott's birthday party at his house. He invited pretty much half the school, most shown up because everyone loves Scott. We were sitting beside each other when she mentioned that she loved the song that was playing, which got us into conversation while the song we both loved played in the background. Turns out we both loved Muse, playing video games and have the same views on most things. Bad side is that when we actually decided to go out, we did not mold the way we thought we would. We butted heads a lot, there was so much bickering, which ultimately caused our final break up.

My legs give out on me as my breathing starts to pick up. All the friends I made in the past few months were through her. Would she make them turn on me the way she finally did? I assume so, knowing Sarah.

That means I will have no one. No friends.

Except Scott. Yeah, Scott, I'll always have him. This singular hope doesn't help my panic, nothing does when a wet tear slips down my cheek and I give in to the pull.

I don't handle rejection well.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf in any way, shape or form.

AN: So this is my first shot at a fanfiction. BARE WITH ME, I pretty much have no idea what I'm suppose to do, really. Hope all goes well. c:~~~ Shy


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter two.

At 16 I thought I wanted a more exciting life then the one I was living in the monotone city of Beacon Hills. I wanted adventure, drama, something different then school, home and Scott's house. Don't get me wrong, I loved my life. After everything I lost, I was thankful for the things I still had and treated them as so, but the urge for more was overwhelming and I would do anything to just have something to talk about that's different, that's _new._ Thats why when the new school year started, when Scott was bitten, when my life changed, I embraced it with a smile. Sure I was freaked out a bit, and sure I was pissed that I was so clueless on all these things happening in the place I grew up in my whole life, but this is the excitement I craved.

By 17 I have been pushed around a lot, beaten, hurt and belittled by pretty much everyone I have been in contact with. I don't mind though, because I'm helping Scott and Derek with their problems... Which include death and mayhem. Not quite the excitement I was looking for, but I can't exactly back out now, unless I want to be ripped apart by pissy werewolves.

At 18 our little group of werewolves has grown to six and we even have several humans running around. I shouldn't say 'our' I should say 'their' because Derek has made it perfectly clear that I am not one of the pack and never will be. He has even thrown me against a few walls over the years to get it into my head. After saving his life a few times you would think he would be gentler, but I guess Derek is never gentle.

It's not just him though, over the last year I've had Scott, Isaac, Boyd and even Allison tell me that I'm not apart of the pack, they, of course, were more friendly about it, like we were discussing math instead of the supernatural.

I never believe it, since I'm still included in pack night and am a regular asset in missions; I just assume they are playing around.

Its pack night, tonight, and as per usual I bring the snacks and movies while everyone else just brings themselves over to the big Alpha's house.

"So, Allison said this thing yesterday that made me laugh..." Scott drones on about Allison again, not noticing that I'm long past caring or listening to his repetitive musings.

"Uh huh..." I say, the line becoming almost a chant when talking to Scott now. Come to think of it, talking to Scott now is just plain dull. All he ever seems to talk about is Allison, well, to me anyway. I hear him have full conversations about irrelevant things with Isaac or the others, like we used to. We've been becoming more distant in the past year then we ever have been before in our lives, we only seem to talk when no one else is around for Scott to converse with, and when we do talk, it's about Allison. I can never get any words in.

Normally I wouldn't mind if I had another output, another source to communicate to as people need to socialize in order to be healthy and content within themselves. Now, put the ADHD on top of that? And you have a recipe for an over active, twitchy ball of conversation that needs some way to relieve the tension in the vocal cords... you know, by talking. Which I do a lot. Not lately though, due to the fact that everyone is scared to tell me to shut up anymore.

I don't mention by ADHD, or the fact that holding things in like that is like an orb of stress and nerves in the pit of my stomach that needs to be released, Instead I shut up.

"And her father walked in..." Scott was saying as I finally pull my Jeep into the driveway of the Hale house.

"We're here!" I say, truly happy to have a chance away from Scott's babbling about his one and only. I quickly reach behind the seat and snatch the plastic shopping bag full of tonight's treats and entertainment. "C'mon, the packs probably already here." I turn off the engine and step out, slamming the door in sync with Scott's side. We let ourselves into the house and I hear the chatter of Erica and Isaac from the other room. Scott and I walk over to the living area, a place we know too well from all the other meetings there, and are greeted with a few smiles.

"Hey, Scott. Stiles." Boyd greets from the couch, his arm loosely hung around Erica. Allison is seated in the love couch, waiting patiently for Scott no doubt, my suspension is confirmed when she bounces up into his open arms when he appears in the doorway. They settle down on the couch. Isaac is sitting on the floor by Erica's feet and Jackson is squeezed in on a chair with Lydia that is placed beside the couch on the far end by the wall, a book is in her hands. I don't bother looking to see what it is called, but instead focus on the way the light from the lamp seems to only glow when it hits her hair. The vibrate strawberry blond hair falls onto her shoulders in waves only the ocean can master and the pout to her lips, the shiny gloss, only makes it that much more magical looking. It belongs in a movie, a big one, with a red carpets and lots of pictures. I ignore the tan arm thrown across her shoulders in a lazy manner. My always-there smile turns down into a small scowl.

"What are you doing, Stiles?" A deep voice asks behind me. I swing around, my heart seeming to jump out of my chest. The plastic bag I forgot I was holding drops to the floor and the contents spill out.

"Holy fuc- What? I was, fuck." I yelp out, and then bend down immediately to pick the items up and put them back into the bag. "Don't scare me like that, or next time I'll hit ya." I snap at Derek, not meaning it of course. I don't have a death sentence or anything. He snorts back and steps around me, opting to sit in the open space beside Erica and Boyd on the couch. I place the bag on the coffee table when and look at everyone with my signature smile. "What do you guys wanna watch?" I ask, pulling out the small stack of movies from the shopping bag. Most of them are old classics but I always put in a werewolf movie or two, just because I find it hilarious, though no one else seems to.

"We have... Wolverine, Human Centipede," I hear Allison say 'ew' and Lydia makes a disgusted face to the last one, "Underworld, and Godfather."

"Oh! Underworld, she's hot in that one," Isaac states, reaching into the bag to take a bag of sour gummy worms.

"Yeah!" Scott agrees, getting a smack from Allison. "I mean, well, she's pretty, I guess."

"Nice save." I laugh, and everyone chuckles a little, except Derek of course. "Underworld it is then," I say, popping the movie in. I press play when the menu comes up then sit back on the floor by Derek's feet. Someone turns out the light and we are left in the glow of the T.V screen.

A few hours later the movie ends and I am left with an asleep butt. As the credits roll I stand up from the uncomfortable arrangement I was in and stretch my body, hearing a couple satisfying pops in my back. "Wasn't that great?" I grin cheerfully, picking up my small bag of miniature Smarties I had finished. "I mean, the graphics are so wow in that movie. Oh, and the wolves? They're so cool! The girl was hot too; do you think she could be that hot if it happened for real? I mean, she never looked not hot. It was nice. Best part." I babble on, Feeling some sort of relief to being able to just talk like I used to. It's crushed when Jackson speaks up.

"Shut up, Stiles." He says harshly with an annoyed look and a vapid sigh, he earns a few looks of agreement from the others. I shut up right away, of course, but the ping of hurt that hits my chest is almost overpowering. Scott was one to look like he agreed, even nodded. The bastard.

"Finally." Jackson almost growls out, unknowingly sending another ping of pain. I smile, though, and apologise.

"Alright, guys. It's late, lets sleep." Derek speaks up for the first time that night. Of course it's an order, though. He looks to me and I understand what he means, this causes me to look down with a sad frown.

"G'night guys." I murmur, gathering my phone from the table and giving everyone a small wave before leaving. No one says bye as I walk out.

This has become routine; I come, bring movies and food, and leave before they go to sleep. The only human to have to go is me, of course. Scott said it was because I snore or something and they can't angry at all or they could transform. I didn't call his lie. Scott is putting distance between us. A lot in so little time. I don't want to believe it, but it's happening, maybe it's due to Allison, or maybe the pack, or both. He rarely comes over now, and every time I call him he is busy with Allison, even that time I held Derek up for two hours in a fucking pool and called him for help. He doesn't talk to me more then he has to at school, and is pretty much switching me out for the rest of the pack.

Then there's Jackson. He has told me straight up that I am a useless human that should just go home where I belong. They used to never affect me, but like earlier, they are starting to actually get to me. Bring me down, even. I don't think he realizes they do, and I refuse to ever give him the satisfaction. He has Lydia, he will not get anything else from me.

I know Derek doesn't like me, even though I saved his ass on more than one occasion, and he has proven this with insults or violent behavior, like throwing me against walls or death threats. It doesn't take a genius to tell that he would be perfectly fine if I were to leave, no matter how much I want him to care.

But as the pathetic loser I am, I stick around hoping that when they finally do cut me off completely, that they will do it with humanity.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf in any way shape or form.

AN: It's... 4am, I think I'm going to sleep now. c: ~~~ Shy.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three~~

After leaving the Hale residence I headed straight home to my dad, who shouldn't be off work till the early morning, so really I was heading home to be alone. Again. I try not to dwell on the fact that lately I've been alone most of my time, a thing I am not used to very much, making the experiences all the more confounding. Even driving home I would usually have someone there, most of the time its Scott, but sometimes even other members of the pack would come to make sure I didn't get into trouble or something. I really can't pinpoint the exact time they all stopped caring.

The drive home is pretty ordinary and uneventful; something that has become the norm ever since we got rid of the last pack that thought it would be smart to try to take our town. Is it weird that I miss the old, familiar fear that used to be attached to me at all times back when everything wanted to kill me? I don't get to think much on it too greatly before I pull into the empty driveway of my house. When inside the vacant, middle class home I decide against going to bed right away and instead head to the kitchen to make a sandwich. While in the process of holding a jar of mayo, package of sandwich meat, bread, and some sliced cheese all in my mouth and one free hand I hear something crash in the living room. I'm sure I'm the only one home and its one in the morning, a time where the pack never shows up at my house, especially not during a pack night.

I slowly ease the fridge door shut, my eyes never leaving the entry to the living room, and reverse step until my back meets the counter. My body is half unresponsive, as my mind is telling it to grab something, anything, other than the bag of bread hanging from my mouth; instead it just slides the mayo and other sandwich material onto the counter, away from me.

I nearly shit myself when a shadow appears in the living room along the wall. It looks human, a female, with long flowy hair. I'm sure I don't blink, but I must have because not even a second later a figure appears in the door way. She has shiny chocolate brown hair that reaches her lower back and from where I am standing I can easily see piercing brown eyes that match her hair perfectly. If it was anything but this situation, she wouldn't look near as intimidating as she does now.

I'm too afraid to look anymore.

"I want something from you." She inquires, her voice deeper than I expected. It has a strange accent with it, too. Maybe Australian or something foreign like that. Are there packs in Australia? I assume so, since there are some all over California according to Derek. I make a mental note to ask him next time I see him. Or not, maybe that would be a bad idea, but then again, I could pop the question in while telling him about the new pack, if he doesn't already know. Derek knows everything, I think, I bet he's one of those people who really do, like Deaton, and only show it when it is brought into conversation.

"Did you hear me?" The pretty wolf snaps at me, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Wait, what?" I drop the bag of bread from my mouth, trying to catch it as it falls but fail miserably. There is no sound of the bag falling onto the floor, but in its place there is a whoosh sound and the bag is dangled in my face, by a nicely tanned hand. "Whoa, nic-nice arm you got there," I stutter out, refusing to look at her, who is only inches away from me now from being across the room only seconds before.

She steps closer to me whilst using her eyes to burn a hole in my head. "Get your pack out of town, mine is moving in." She stipulates while tilting her cute-little pixie head to the side in a way that only psychopaths can do.

"My pack? I don't have a pack," I tell her far too quickly. Her pretty pout lips turn up into a wicked smirk and she reaches her hand up to run her fingertips through my untidy hair, then seductively trails her hand down the side of my face.

"Oh sure you do. Why else would a pretty boy like you smell like wolf?" Her voice is suddenly so flirtatious that it makes my knees begin to get weak; _Damn my teenaged lust! _

"No-not my pack. Nope, I'm a free man. Why would I want to be around wolves? They always smell like wet dog and Kibble."

"Aw... Poor little thing," She whispers. She takes my hand in her soft ones. I suddenly feel self-conscious over my rough, sweaty hands. "Do they not like you?"

_ No. They don't. _"Of course they do!" I lie while looking around hastily for some sort of defense item. "I'm just don't want any part in that stuff," I try, unsuccessfully, to buy some time while I look for anything to fight her off with, though I know its fruitless since she is a wolf and I am only a scrawny human and no weapon but Allison's arrows or some kind of gun would be able to slow her down at this point. I inwardly curse when I realize I had forgotten my Wolfsbane in my Jeep. Though, in prove of my suspensions of her inner beasty she squeezes one of my hands in hers with such grip that it brings me to shout out in agony and surprise. I feel my hand cripple in on itself as something cracks.

"You're a part of it now," She snarls while looking deep into my eyes with her radiant gold-rimmed ones. She lets go of my hand and spins around, her hair whipping me in the face, and strides towards the front door. "Tell them, or I'm coming back with friends." She withdraws out into the night, violently slamming the door shut behind her.

I cradle my hand against my chest as I shuffle around to look for my keys. I find them in my back pocket and immediately bolt out to my Jeep, not wanting to be in the dark more then I have to. I grab the Wolfsbane from the glove department and shove the sack deep into my pocket. Then I proceed to start her up, destination: the Hale house going 20 over the speed limit.

Around every turn I think I see her standing on the side of the road, every red light I am convinced she will jump on the roof of my Jeep and use her freakishly sharp wolf nails and rip away the metal. I just want to keep driving, never stopping until I am in front of Derek's house. Where the pack is, they won't let her get to me, they would take the whole pack out before Derek would let them touch me. Or would they risk it? Would they risk trying to protect me now, since it's pretty clear that they don't want me there. Why am I going then? Because they are my friends, I quickly answer myself.

They're my friends... Right?

I shake my head of those thoughts. Of course they are, Of course.

I finally arrive at the house full of the friends in question. I open the door; forgetting that my hand has recently been broken and hiss loudly as shot of pain the travels up my arm. "Fuck!" I curse out, bringing my hand to my chest and stroking it with my other. "God damn," I whisper, using my other hand to open the door awkwardly and climbing out. I lumber up the front steps of the house and choose not to knock but instead just let myself in.

"Yo, Derek! We got a problem," I call out while sauntering through the house to the living room where they all still should be there, sleeping. I know they will hear me even when they sleep, and I don't care if it will wake them up. There's a new pack in town and they all need to be on the case to get rid of them, and to be honest, I am glad I have an excuse to talk to everyone at once again, where they will actually pay attention to me. For too long have I been pushed to the side and forgotten while the rest of them got praise and glory. Too long have they disregarded my assists in their discoveries. I want a voice in this pack again, a back bone, like I had when it was just me and Scott. I'm Stiles Stilinski I know big words and I can, or used to, make a big alpha back down. I'm strong, and brave. I got this.

When I round the corner to the desired room, with my brand new brave face on, I am astounded when I find them all awake and having a great time watching one of the movies I had brought over earlier.

They are all laughing and chatting so much to each other that if they weren't wolves and had that enhanced smell they wouldn't have even noticed I was there.

Derek is the first to look my way.

AN: I had forgotten to put disclaimers on my previous chapters... Ops. I will go do that now. Anyway, thanks for reading and such! This is funnier then I thought it would be to finally write a fanfiction of my own. c: ~~ Shy.


	4. Chapter Four

AN: Thannnks everyone for your support! C: Though, whenever I see I got a review I can't help but to be scared. Have you guys, the ones that themselves right stories, ever felt like that? Scared to look at the reviews? I find it rather a horrifying experience, but am so happy when they are positive. :D Thanks everyone c:~~~ Shy.

Chapter Four.

I didn't exactly know how to respond. It's not like there are web pages on how to cope with the straightforward fact that your friends hate you. Yes, I say hate now because in what universe would this be acceptable behavior for acquaintances that even like you a little bit?

I stand there sputtering with my mouth half-ajar, looking at the faces of all my betrayers until Derek rises from his place on the couch and steps carefully over Erica's legs to stand directly in front of me.

"What are you doing here, Stiles?" He practically growls down at me. I can smell his woodsy rustic scent, and instead of calming me down and keeping me balanced like it usually does, instead it fuels the boiling anger that is setting camp in my stomach.

"What're you doing here, _awake_?" Demanding answers from Derek isn't the smartest thing I've done. Probably make the list of Top 5 Stupidest Things Stiles has _Ever_ Done, but I'm angry, damnit! I deserve answers for once.

"I don't think that's any of your business," Derek, his natural scowl implanted on his face.

"None of my business? None of my business. okay. Alright," I take a deep breath as I step back and gesture to all the watchful faces, "None of my business that my 'friends'" On the word 'friends' I make the quotation motion with my fingers, ignoring the throbbing from my injured one altogether, "Don't want me around, anymore? That they are all trying to get rid of me?" I basically screech at Derek. I can feel my hands tremble, and know my voice is anything but steady right now, but I can't stop. Not now. Derek faces twists into some weird, unfamiliar expression, something that I can't even start to pinpoint the emotions before its back to its cold mask. I keep my eyes trained on Derek and nothing else, half afraid that if I look away now, I will lose the confidence I have to do this.

"My 'friends'," I make sure to make that word drip in venom. I'm shocked when my voice comes out more intimidating that I ever could imagine even mustering. It would go into a competition with Derek on his worst day, "Can fucking kill hunters, fight off whole packs of wolves and be the brave fucking heroes they are, but they can't tell one measly human to get lost for _good_!" Without thinking I shove my hands against Derek's chest, causing him to stumble back in surprise. It doesn't slow me down when I see his eyes flash red, no, it makes me angrier. It reminds me on how Derek refuses to turn me, refuses to allow me to join the pack. "I know I'm not good enough for the pack, I fucking get it. Allison has her bow shit she does, and Lydia is smart and can fucking be all high and mighty with her witchy stuff and I got nothing, alright? I get that, but I know I don't deserve how you guys are treating me," I gulp for air to try to calm down my shaking body but it does no good.

I feel as if I'm not even in my body anymore, but am merely watching from the outside. I can see my face is red in anger, that my moles are defined in the red. I'm not thinking, I'm not even sure what I'm trying to say, I just know I'm angry, _pissed_, at these people.

"Stiles it's not-"Scott. No, it's my turn. I'm not listening to your dopey smile or apologetic words anymore, this is my turn.

"How many times do I have to save each and every one of you guys' asses to get some damned respect?" I cut him off without so much as acknowledging him speaking at all.

"Stiles, shut up."

"No, no!" Voice crack, wow, did I mention that I'm really macho? I continue anyway, "I'm not going to shut up, not this time, Derek," Derek looks at me in surprise? Derek is never surprised, but his eyebrows are raised and he crosses his arms over his chest.

"What did you tell me?" He asks in his usual smooth, threatening voice, one that I haven't been effected by in a long time.

"You don't scare me. None of you do. Because I know deep down that you all are fucking cowards. All of you," I gesture out to the group, looking at them for the first time since I started my rant.

They all have shocked gazes on their faces, almost disbelieving ones, the only one that seems to be upshot a little bit more then the rest has to be Scott, and that's even a long shot.

"At least we can fight off danger, while you just run around and scream like a little girl," Jackson laughs, a short, bitter laugh. More of a snort really, a pathetic, ugly snort.

"No one asked for your opinion, Jackson."

"No one asked you to be here," Jackson and Derek say in sync, Derek getting close and personal to my face and then he roughly pushes me back towards the door and adds, "Stay the fuck home, like I told you too."

"Fucking- fine then, I'm gone," I try to recover myself from being shoved as I'm stumbling backwards across the room, but fail when I collide with a wall, smashing my head against it. "I'm gone." I whisper out, the last of my venom draining out along with it.

I bring my wounded hand to my chest, and cautiously touch the back of my head, wincing. For a moment I forget I'm still there with everyone, all their eyes locked on me as I try to get an inventory of my bodily harm.

"Stiles-" She sounds worried, why would Lydia be worried? Not like she even ever cared about me. Ever, and certainly not now.

I wave her off with a small "Fuck off," and stumble out towards the front door. My body feels like its convulsing as it tries to maneuver through the house. When outside I climb into my Jeep the best I can with my injured hand, and turn the engine over. I can feel it coming, the tightness in my chest, the way my breathing as turned up in pace. I know what's about to happen and the only thing on my mind is to get out. Don't do it here, do not let them hear-whatever you do.

My fingers find themselves in my hair, pulling, trying to distract myself with pain. It works as my broken hand twitches with new, agonizing pain shooting up every vein. I let out a breathy sigh and grip the stirring wheel far too tightly with my good hand as I back out of the Hale property and onto the road. I almost scratch Derek's Camaro, but narrowly miss. Used to be that I wouldn't park anywhere near it, scared that I might hit it in some way and have my head bitten off, but now... Now I can't seem to be troubled by it at all.

The drive home is wobbly at best. As I was able to forget about the new pack and their obvious violent behaviour, as my hand will vouch for that, I was not able to distract myself from the impending panic attack for more than a few seconds when I would hit my hand on something to use pain to keep myself grounded.

I finally give in to the impending doom before I even turn the engine off in the driveway of my house.

The twist to my stomach, a roll that sends nausea throughout my body, and the sudden chill traveling down my spine throws me into a deeper fit of despair and dread. To my surprise I don't tear up and wail like a little baby, the one that I know I am. My chest heaves with everything rapid, airless breath I take. I try to seize even the littlest amount of oxygen, knowing I'll pass out from the wooziness in my head if I don't get some, but every gulp of air I get seems empty of what I desire, causing me to rapidity speed up in absolute terror, which then makes me panic even more. It's an endless cycle until I end up passed out on the stirring wheel of my Jeep, or worse; dead.

Since there is no one here to help me, I noticed my dad's car is home but he's probably in bed already, I make an effort to try and get some fresh air. I try to get the door open with my good hand, as I remember through my attack that the other is broken and useless, but my hand seem to other ideas and instead curls in on itself and shakes. I try to roll down the window, my body seriously craving fresh air like a cigarette, but only get it down a crack before I cry out. I push on the door, clawing it with my good hand, I kick it, yell, and eventually the door flies open and causes me to plunge out onto the cement. The back of my head throbs as it moves to fast, and begins to feel as if a enormous headache as entrenched itself there.

Laying there I feel some relief wash over as I feel the new, fresh air around me. The only ache is in my head, literally and metaphorically. I sigh, listening with my ear against the cool ground as my heart beat starts to slowly decline.

I hear the front door burst open and someone say; "Stiles? Stiles!" And then loud, obnoxious footsteps getting closer. Another noise of metal against concrete then someone is lifting me up by my waist. I would fight back, tell them to get lost but I just don't care right now. My mind is blank and stays that way when whoever they are, are bringing me up the stairs to my house, sending a new shock of pain through my head with every jerk to my body, but not enough to get any kind of response out of my body. I know it's my father, it's the only logical explanation, but I can't put to and to together right now. All I can even grasp is the aroma of cinnamon and something else, something old. It's the common scent of my house's interior. My father kicks open the door to my room and carries me inside, bridal style, and places me charily onto my unmade bed. He's taking off my sneakers and tossing them somewhere in the room and tucks my feet under the blankets.

"You'll be okay, son, you'll be alright," I can smell vigor and something sweat on his breath when he kisses my forehead. I bet he doesn't even realize the back of my head is probably bleeding, but I can't seem to indicate anything to him, I'm too tired. I'm asleep before he even shuts my door.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf in any way, shape or form.


	5. Chapter Five

AN: Oh. Um. Hello. c: Ennnnnjoyyyyy~

Chapter 5

I wake up to the intoxicating aroma of bacon and eggs coming from the kitchen. The old me would have clambered down stairs and demand to know why my father is cooking bacon and not something more healthy, while taking the plate full of deliciousness for myself as my father threatens me with a lethal weapon to either give back the bacon or be shot. I say the old me because the new me doesn't seem to give a damn anymore, I would much rather lie in bed for the rest of the day, but know I can't. I sit up against gravity, which agrees with me on lying down all day, and intend to get ready for school but my hand is strangely sore, then I remember another wolf had broken it the night before.

"Fuck," I rumble out as I cradle the now throbbing hand with my other. I touch the back of my head gently to get a sense of the damage back there. It's a little tender and is still aching, but I obviously don't have a concussion or anything that serious so I go ahead searching my room looking for fresh cloths and throwing them on the best I can with one working hand. When I'm finished I hesitantly tip toe down the stairs and poke my head into the kitchen to spot my father's back to me as he happily cooks breakfast, whistle and all. I look towards the front door, then back to him, then the door again and without another thought I fling my body at the door and quietly sneak out, and do the same for my Jeep. Once inside I slowly turn her on, wincing when the engine flared loud and proud.

Getting out of the neighbourhood was easier than expected, and once I was far enough away from my house I let myself feel bad for just leaving my dad when he was probably making breakfast for me, too, as he was probably worried about me over last night . I was thinking about how I was going to make it up to him when I pulled into the hospital parking area. I slid out of the Jump, turning her off and shoving the keys in my sweater pocket, and made the long-ass walk up to the main doors.

The stink of disinfectant has to be one of my most hated smells. Maybe it's because it smells like fear, or maybe it's because it is basic fragrance of any hospital, and I personally hate those, too. The elderly lady behind the long, sleek counter must have seen my distain because she waved me over with a 'son'.

"What are you look for, hun?" She inquires when I approach the counter.

I gesture to my hand and shrug, "I need someone to look at my broken hand here," I place my broken hand down onto the counter and cover it with my good one.

"Aw, honey, what happened?" She looks closely at my hands with a little, worried frown. The kind you would see on a mother- Mother? Scott's mom works at the hospital, I forgot about that. What would I do if I ran into her? Act like everything is still normal, like nothing happened at all? Would Scott have already told her? Probably, since he's a mama's boy.

I physically shake my head of those thoughts for now and look up at the mature, older lady with a smile, "Lacrosse. Boys got a little rough, where do I go for this exactly?" I look at my hand then back up at her.

She smiles and points at a hallway behind her with her wrinkly finger, "Down there, take a number and wait for your turn."

"Thank you," I walk off in the direction she told me too, and at the end of the hallway I end up in a small waiting room with only a few people sitting there. I take a number from those tall, ticket machine things and nod to everyone, who are staring at me like I'm some sort of new entertainment. I sit down anyway, two seats away from anyone and wait for my turn.

It seems like hours later when my number finally flashes on the little screen above everyone's heads with a loud BEEEP. I saunter over to the desk and the young women behind the glass. She smiles at me as I sit down in the much more comfortable, blue arm chair.

"What's the problem, sir?" Her voice sounds like honey, so sweat and almost sing-song. I give her a toothy smile before pointing to my wounded hand.

"It's broken, I need someone to wrap it or do whatever you do to make it better, soon." She looks at my crippled hand and frowns.

"Alright, we have a doctor free right now, actually. I just need your health card and information," She flips open a little, blue folder and takes one of the many insufferable, bright, fluffy pens from a container and begins to question me.

Ten minutes later I am being escorted through and down small hallways which turn in every direction until the young lady, who I found out is named Brenda, stops at a random room and opens the door.

"Just wait in here, they'll be right in," She shuts the door behind me. I hear her high heels slap against the floor harshly as she practically stomps away.

I jump onto the bed and stay perfectly still as the sound of the paper they put over the beds is annoying and unpleasing. I look along the walls instead and read all the posters about smoking and lung cancer. It doesn't take long before the door opens again and a lady with scrubs comes in.

It's my nightmare when she turns around and presents herself as Scott's mom.

She flashes me her usual motherly smile and looks down at the clipboard in her hands. "Broken hand, huh? What happened?" She asks me while putting the clipboard down on the bed beside me and touching my broken hand carefully with her cold fingers.

"Lacrosse," I mutter out, looking away as I find it incredibly hard to lie to her, always have. Her fingers leave my hand and she reaches behind her to grab a wheelie stool from the little counter with the sink. She pulls it close to the bed and sits down, then proceeds to take my hand in hers and examines it more closely.

"It looks almost crushed... What'd they do, all sit on it at once?" She asks, obviously not believing me at all. She flips it over, ignoring my wince of pain. "What really happened?"

"Wolves." I whimper out through the pain of her twisting, poking and feeling my hand. She places it down on my lap and spins in a 180 to the counter, pulling open a drawer and drawing things out.

"Was it Derek?" She simply asks half way through her search for what looks like things to make a wrap out of. I can almost see the frown in her voice. "You know how much I hate you and Scott hanging out with that man. I should have known he'd do something-"

"It wasn't him, believe me, I would have kicked his ass if he didn't something like this," There's a sudden ache to my chest while saying that, but I try to ignore it and continue, "It was some new pack. Nothing serious, they just wanted to threaten me, but as you know, I'm unthreatenable... If that's even a word. It is now! I should call somebody," By now she had already turned and had my hand on her lap, a long strip of white gauze in her hands. "I could give you some credit, since you were here when I made the discovery of the new word of the ages," I ramble.

She chuckles a little but otherwise ignores my babbling, as she has been hearing it for years. She then proceeds to gently wrap my hand in the gauze, "It's not broken, but there are some stretched muscles and your wrist is pulled out of place, you will have to keep it in this wrap for a few weeks, okay? Don't be taking it off once you get in your car."

I chuckle and roll my eyes at the memory, "That was one time, okay? I promise."

She smiles and wraps my hand and wrist a few more times, then tucks the end of the gauze in an edge and leans back a bit. "There you go. Gimmie a call if you need anything else, kay?" I nod and stand up, yearning to be out of the cramped place more than anything right now. "Oh and Stiles?"

"Yeah?" I turn to her only to me caught off guard. She has a sad look on her face and is looking at me with such motherly eyes its almost scary.

"I think you're good enough to be in any pack," she says with a small, sad smile.

I don't know what else to say but a small, "Thanks," and without another word I leave the room and speed walk out of the hospital, surprisingly having no trouble navigating my way through the hallway maze of the hospital.

So Scott did tell her? Is that how she knew it wasn't Lacrosse? Because Scott told her about the new pack already, and if there's a new pack, it automatically means Stiles has been hurt somehow. You know, cause that's all I do is get hurt.

I punch my stirring wheel and glare daggers at it, I know childish, but I'm fucking angry. I don't care if people see me beat up my stirring wheel, even if they think it's some crazed loony that could possibly eat them.

I want to know where Scott gets the right to talk about my business to his mother. We're not friends anymore, not in his eyes, so why would he tell his mother knowing she will talk to me about it. In what world is that okay? It's not. This only shows me that I can't come back here and risk her actually trying to have a conversation about what happened. If Scott didn't tell her his side of it.

How Stiles went bat-crap crazy and starting accusing the pack of shit they will never admit to doing.

I aggressively twist my keys in the ignition of my Jeep and fire her up, revving her up loudly and driving out of the parking lot much faster then I should have.

Right now I don't seem to care, because all I want to do is go home and sleep the day away.

When I arrive home, my father's car is still sitting in the drive way. To my surprise my father is also sitting on the porch of the house in one of our old lawn chairs. I turn off my Jeep and climb out; most of my anger has gone away since leaving the hospital. I awkwardly walk up the steps of the house, preparing for some yelling.

"Where were you?" He asks first. I know it's a game and once I answer that question he will go on a full out rant. I stop walking and slowly turn to face him. "What's that? What happened?" He looks at my bandaged hand, then up at my face.

I shrug, "Nothing, don't worry about it dad," Oh, aren't those words familiar. Not a day when I haven't said that back when I was sixteen.

He frowns, not pleased with my answer, "Don't say that, something happened, what was it?" He pushes, leaning forward to grab my hand and study it more closely.

"Nothing, dad. Sorry about this morning, I just wanted to get it checked out," I take my hand out of his and step back towards the door, bringing my no-good hand behind my back.

"I guess you're not going to school then, huh? I talked to Scott's mother, so I understand if you need a day to-"

"I don't need a day to mope, dad. I'm just," I put my other hand on the doorknob and sigh, "I'm just a little tired is all, I'll be fine," I lie effortlessly, pushing the door open and quickly climbing the stairs to the second level of my house without so much as looking back. I know he's worried, but I can't deal with that right now, I can't deal with anything right now. I slam my bedroom door shut behind me and rest my back against it with my eyes closed. Instead of doing a fist-pump for avoiding my father's rant like a pro, I just flop down on my bed fully clothed, pull the covers over my head and curl into a ball with my arms wrapped around my legs. It takes a while before the veil of darkness finally does any good in putting me to sleep, and when it does it's only a light, dreamless slumber.

When I wake up sometime after sunset I feel someone in my room, watching me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf in any way, shape or form.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter 6.

I couldn't make out anything odd but the strange feeling of being watched when I woke up sometime early in the night. I looked around with my sleepy eyes until they settled on a dark figure standing by my open bed room window, the one I especially made sure was shut before I went to bed as it was the one Derek and Scott would use to get into my room uninvited.

The figure is slim and famine, along dark hair to her lower back. I recognize her from the kitchen, when she mutilated my hand the rude bitch. I sit up quickly and shuffle till my back is against my headboard. I squint my eyes through the dark to try to stare her down. The dark figurine practically flowed over to my computer desk, running her long fingers along the wooden surface with a grace, if you could get grace by stroking inanimate objects.

"Did you tell them?" She asks softly, her attention seeming to be more focused on the junk scattered on my desk, picking up a pencil or book to look over before gently placing it back down. I reach over and pull the string on my bedside table lamp, illuminating the room in an almost blinding new light. The nameless women needs unaffected and continues with her freaky exploratory of my personal area. Though I am in no position to stop her.

"Didn't really get the chance," Her bottom lip pouts out in a understanding or agreeing gesture.

"Did they finally get rid of you, then?"

"Yes." I snarl at her after a moment's silence. She takes slow and easy steps over to my dresser beside my bed, merely inches away from me, though strangely she doesn't look at me. "Why are you here? I'm sure they know you're in town."

She tilts her head to the side and she looks closely to the fabric design of my lamp. "You're smart," she states, like it you would if you were telling someone it's raining outside. She brings a long fingernail up to the lamp shade and seems to trace the design.

I huff, but feel kind of proud. I would deny is anyone said they saw me puff out my chest a little "That's what my teachers say, yeah."

"But not you?" She says slowly, well more slowly than before. Though, no matter what she says, she will always sound like a psychotic child from every horror movie. The ones with the pretty red dress and innocent hair cut, but have a knife behind their backs.

"Well, not smart enough, I guess..." I whisper, bowing my head a little. She turns her head to look at me straight on, a small smile dances across her face.

"You're smarter than all of them, you know that. You hold power that none of them understand, and inside you are stronger then all of them combined. Without you," She leans over the bed, her petit hands holding her up as she puts her lips close to my ear. I can't help but shutter as the closeness, "They would be dead." she breaths in my ear. I open my mouth to say something, but close it when I realize I can't form words. In a flash she is standing straight up again and is brushing off her skirt of imaginary dirt when she continues, "Join us, my pack and I would love to have you." Though an obvious question, it comes off as more of an assertion.

I furrow my eyebrows together and look to her in disbelief. Surely she doesn't want me in her pack, the whole idea seems idiotic. I'm human, for one, and for two; she certainly must not think I actually trust her at all; she broke my hand for fucks sakes! I run my lanky fingers through my recently grown out, messy, brown hair. What could they use me for, anyway? Then it hits me; information about Derek's pack.

How easy would it be for me to simply wipe out my betrayers if I joined this lady's pack. How easy it could be for me to get my pay back from all the shit I've taken, all the beatings and letdowns I've received since becoming involved in Derek's life. With my information about the whereabouts, the research and strategies I've gained since coming into this mess, I could most defiantly take out all of my friends without even lifting a finger. I know its wrong that I think on this too much, wrong how I am actually considering doing anything like this. I can't help it. It's like Derek stabbed me in the heart, and each and every one of them twisted the knife one by one afterwards. I frown and shake my head then look up to her.

"I can't. I won't," I answer in barley a whisper.

She sighs and looks towards the window, "We'll change your mind," she tells me and begins to walk towards the open window. She's in a pouncing position on the window still when she looks back to me with glowing gold eyes, ones I can see clear as light from the other side of the room, regardless the lamp light half blinding me, "We can finally give you what you truly desire." She jumps out and vanishes into the night.

It takes a few minutes to process what she said and the fact that she didn't threaten me or hurt me when I refused her offer, an action I am fairly used to when I stood up to Derek on those rare occasions in the beginning of our relationship. After I get over the small shock I jump up and race over to the window, slamming it shut and pulling the curtains across. I then sit on the edge of my bed, my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands. I take a deep breath and try to get my thoughts to stop doing summersaults.

When I at last lift my head the sun has risen and I have a colossal kink in my neck. I crack it a few times before standing up and doing the same to my body. I must have been sitting like that for hours and not even realize it; too caught up in my thoughts, I guess. I look at the digital clock on my night stand and almost piss myself. It reads seven am, meaning I have to be at school in a half hour. I grab the first set of cloths I see, the first shirt and pants I spot in the clean laundry pile dad must have did, and throw them on, brushing my teeth so fast the Flash would be jealous, I then put deodorant on all in less than 7 minutes. I snatch my backpack and throw it over my shoulders and dash downstairs. I grab a bagel and my car keys from the bowl on the counter of the kitchen and bolt outside. Dad's car is gone so he must have had an early shift. I hop into my Jeep and fly out of the driveway. If I miss Math class, I'm going to be in serious shit.

I park in the school parking lot when my dashboard clock reads 7:26 am. Without wasting any more time I dart out of my Jeep and into the school in record time; making it into the threshold of my Math class just as the bell rings. A room full of eyes look at me in surprise but I ignore them and Mr. Harris's death glare as I shuffle to my desk at the back of the class.

I reach down to my bag for my text book when I do an extreme face-palm. I had forgotten my bag in my Jeep.

Fuck.

I panicky look around for someone else who might have had the same misfortune. Everyone has their books, sadly, even Scott who seems to always forget his.

Scott.

I had forgotten about them in my rush this morning.

A weight, I must say about a 1000 ton weight, instantly falls onto my shoulders then keeps on slipping down into my stomach and form a gigantic flaming ball of loose nerves. I look at my desk before he notices me staring at him with an embarrassing but horrified expression.

All of the pack goes to this school, except Derek, and are a part of every social group. They are everywhere. How am I going to survive the rest of high school when I have to see the people that hurt me every day? I don't think I can stand it, not even for a month. I pray to god that they don't bully me, give me the stink eye that they are all very good at producing. I just hope they stick to their own wolf business and forget I ever existed. Anything to make living alone like this easier on me. They owe me that at the very least.

I'll have to find other places to sit in all my other classes, since every single one of them I am seated beside a pack member.

A bell rings loudly throughout the school, signaling the class's end and the start of a ten minute break before the next one. I shrink out of the classroom with a large group that file out of the door before I can even see Scott and whatever disgusted face he has seeing me. I use the break as an opportunity to stop by my Jeep to pick up my bag before next class. When I walk out of the school with my hands buried deep in my pockets the first thing I notice is the black Camaro parked out front and a mop of blond hair leaning with her forearms against the driver's side window. Of course it has to be Derek's Camaro, and it has to be Erica walking to him, because that's all my luck is doing these days. Deceiving me. I try my best to ignore them and proceed to my Jeep to fetch my much needed school items, but knowing Erica I feel heat lasers, otherwise known as eyes, staring at the side of my head, then the back of it as I accelerate up my walking into a pathetic speed walk and I know my heart is doing the same thing, giving me away to the pesky wolves.

I hear Erica mumble something to Derek and I'm positive I hear, "Do you think he's alright?" But I know I must be mistaken and brush it off, not really giving two shits. Okay, that's a lie but still, better not to think too much into something my stupid human ears might have heard and even if it is what I heard, she could mean someone completely different. Whatever.

I get my bag out of the Jeep as fast as I can and scuffle back to the school without so much as one peek back at the black Camaro I love so much.

The rest of the school day goes by pretty peacefully. I was able to steer clear of the pack on the most part; I actually don't think they even saw me other then Erica this morning. Though that all changed during Lacrosse practice.

I missed one easy shot, one little mistake. I didn't mean to, but got distracted when Jackson decided it was his job to practically murder me with his stares. Nonstop the entire game I would catch him glaring at me, seething. I don't know why he is so pissed, I mean, yeah I tripped a couple times and pretty much played with two left feet, but that's how I usually play. He should have expected it to get worse since being abandoned by my friends, than get better. So, when I seen him give me yet another cold glare, I decided to give him one back which cost us a point. I haven't even seen Scott the entire practice, probably skipped to see Allison, but if he was here he would probably have something to do with this.

Now Jackson is arguing with Coach Finstock only a few yards away from where I'm sitting on the bench. I can hear faint, "He's no good," "He is horrible at this," And the coach nods to these sometimes and argues back a little. I don't get to think much on what they could be arguing about because only a few moments later Finstock is giving Jackson one last, assuring nod before walking in my direction. He comes over calmly and sits down beside me on the bench. He doesn't look in my direction once.

"We need to talk, Stilinski." This never ends well.

"What about, sir?" Don't let your voice falter. No weaknesses. You're not a kid anymore, Stiles.

"You're performance out there. It's not at the... skill level we're lookin' for," He says slowly, taking off his baseball cap and running the back of his hand across his brow to wipe away the sweat that collected there.

"I know, sir, I'm just not feeling right, and plus my hand and everything..."

"What I'm trying to say is that I'm removing you from the team." He says quickly, like it might actually pain him to break that to me. I know I'm wrong on that because I have been a prime source for Finstock's disappointment for years, and he has told me this in many ways. He plays with his baseball cap almost nervously for a few long, silent moments before going on. "I'll need your uniform and for your name to be removed from your locker." He stands up after that and looks down at me, "Sorry, Stiles."

I nod to him and then look down at my hands, listening closely for his footsteps as he strolls away, probably headed to the locker room to check up on his team. When I'm sure he's gone I jump up off the bench and lounge forward to punch the wall to the benches. I punch it hard enough with my wounded hand, the genius I am, that some of the red paint around it crackles off and falls to the dirt below. I press my forehead against the cool wood with pant, anger boiling inside me.

How fucking dare he.

He has the audacity to once again come into my life, where is made it perfectly clear he wants no involvement in, and fuck it up even more? They take another thing away from me, something they had no part in this time. That's low, even for them.

It's not like I cared that much for Lacrosse, I actually was thinking on quitting anyway as I never liked it and only joined because Scott begged me too. No, I'm pissed because Jackson took something from me so easily. He has control over my life, all of them do. They have the say on what happens to me more then I even do, and that's not fair. I will not allow a group of inconsiderate fuckers waltz into my life anytime they want and control it after telling me they don't want me in theirs.

I push myself off the wall with new determination and a destination in mind. It's then I spot Jackson still in the field, looking at me with a strange expression, then down at my wrapped hand, then back up at my face.

It was the first time in my life I smirked with pure, undeniable malice.

I didn't know where I could find her, but I did know she had eyes and ears all over. I could tell her pack was bigger than Derek's and I know they are sneakier. Her pack probably isn't full of immature teenagers who do nothing but let their emotions get the best of them; they never think their actions through. It makes them weaker than others.

I know she would have seen, or heard, of the affair that happened in the field so I go straight home. I know she'll be there waiting.

When I pull into the driveway I calmly enter my house, greet my dad who is lounging on the couch watching some sports game, and climb the stairs by twos. I take my time going to my room as I feel strangely tranquil and light. It feels good to have my mind clear for once since this whole ordeal, I finally have a goal, a set task and not a jumble of nonsense going on in my head.

When I open the door to my room I am not at all surprised when I see her sitting on my computer chair facing my door. We both look at each other for a long time in silence before I speak up, "I want to join."

"I knew you would come around," She grins wickedly.

"What's your name, then, my new pack member?"

"Kali."

AN: Dun dun dun. Alright. If you guys haven't already guessed, by my easy misspellings of names or fuck ups in the story line of Teen Wolf, I actually never watched the first few seasons of Teen Wolf. I know everything about the show from the intense research I did when I got hooked on Sterek. DON'T SHOOT ME. But if you see a obvious fuck up in the story line or anything you would like to mention please feel free to do so.

Anyway, its 5am, I've been up all night writing this chapter so good night, bros and broskis. ~~ Shy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf in any way, shape or form.


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter 7.

Kali didn't waste any time introducing me to the rest of her pack, which is a lot smaller than I expected, and they all welcomed me with open arms.

Apparently the whole pack are Alphas, which I have never even thought was possible, and though not bonded like other packs they are all loyal to each other and treat each other with the respect I had wished for in Derek's pack. From the new days with them I can tell each and every one of them is tougher and more brutal then any wolf I have ever seen. I am never told how they became so independently strong but I don't ask, they will tell me when they want to.

There's Ennis; the pack's muscle. He is usually quiet and held back, but I once saw him shift and rip a stone pillar from the floor of the hideout and throw it across the room because Kali spent the entire day teasing him. Mental side note; Do not mess with Ennis.

Then there are the twins, Ethan and Aiden. They're identical and are both the silent, broody type. Like Derek. No, not like Derek, not at all. These guys don't wear leather and aren't as badass, and they don't have facial hair. Can't be like Derek without facial hair. Anyway, the strange thing about these two is that when they are transforming into the wolf they kind of mend together. You heard me, they mold into one big wolf. It's insane. I don't like being around them all the much since they have enrolled in Beacon High, and Aiden is seeing Lydia. They are my one connection to the people I am trying to get away from. The upside is that at least I have others my age in the group.

Kali is the only women in the pack, I pointed this out to her one day and she made it perfectly clear she is not to be looked upon as weak when she ripped apart a large window drape with her feet. Her feet. I kid you not; she has some crazy martial arts going on with her toe nails. She never wears shoes or socks either, and sports a lot of leather pants, not that I'm complaining. Recently she decided to take a job as the school counsellor but won't tell me why. She does not look like the counselling type at all.

Lastly, there is Deucalion. He claims he is the Alpha of all Alphas, a Demon-Wolf. He is the leader of the pack and can strike fear in anyone's eyes. If he could see them. That's right, the man is blind. He has to wear dark sunglasses indoors and carries around a cane, one of those one that look like they're from a magic shop. Don't test him though, because that man can destroy you with little to no effort. Seeing him fight is one of the scariest things I have ever witnessed, and I ran with wolves for three-freaking years.

I swear to god every girl that hears his voice has to get a little wet. It's this British, rustic deep voice that I have never, ever heard of before. It's unique to the point where you can sit there for hours listening to him talk and never pinpoint all the accents in it. It's daunting but soothing at the same time, a voice that hasn't affected me since Derek's.

Going to school now is like a new experience. I walk the halls in confidence, my head held high and a skip in my walk. I feel safe and like I belong somewhere now. I know it was only a few days I spent in a torturous black hole but it had felt like years.

Days seemed to go by faster and things started to become a pleasant routine. I finally felt good, but I would be lying if I said that every time I seen my old friends, every time I heard their voices my heart would ache and I would catch myself wishing to be a part of their talks again. I would always stop myself from thinking such things.

Kali joined the school staff two weeks after I joined the pack. Since school policy states that she must wear shoes on the school premises she opted to wearing easy slip-on flats, which she wasn't so happy about but complied anyway.

She told me not to visit her in her office unless it is an emergency to do with the other pack, though I do see Ethan and Aiden go in there sometimes but I know better than to question it.

Three weeks after joining the pack I arrive home from a day at school and, as usual, head up to my room. When I step into the threshold of the room and I see the dark figurine by the window, the outline of the figure is big and muscular. I drop my kitbag down on the floor beside the door and reach over to flick the light switch on. "What'd ya need Ennis?" I ask, kicking off my shoes side my kitbag. When I glance up to Ennis through the corner of my eye I'm taken back.

Standing there, in all his glory, is a bloody and battered Derek. He is panting heavily, his entire body shuddering with every breath and is holding the window still to balance himself upright.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I snap, turning my body to stare at him straight on and fold my arms on my chest impatiently. He doesn't say anything in the way he sometimes does to be more dramatic and nerve-jangling. Right now it only irritates me. "Well?"

"Your new friends," He gestures down to his beaten body then stumbles forward a bit but catches himself by grabbing the wall for support. He hisses in pain and then looks up to me a second later when he realizes I haven't answered. "Well?" He snaps, mimicking my earlier tone.

"You must have attacked them, first."

"Why would I attack them?" Is he serious? He can't possibly think I would believe him against my pack. One that actually wants me.

"Well maybe it's because you're a wolf? Or maybe because you're a fucking Hale, the notorious family that wants nothing more than power. Did you send your little pups into a den of powerful wolves just for the off chance that you might kill one of them?" I bark at him, suddenly thankful that dad is working the late shift so he wouldn't hear my raised voice. Derek looks stunned.

He collects his face up into the cold, stone face he mastered again. "They came to us. They knew where to strike. Something only people on the inside would know." He glares directly into my eyes.

"I'm not on the inside anymore, if that's what your suggesting. I had nothing to do with this." I take a long stride towards him.

"What would a Alpha pack like them want with a human like you?" He growls out and you can see the anger developing inside him just by the pitch of his voice, "They want you for information about my pack and nothing more." I take another big step towards him, defiantly in his personal bubble now. He looks down at me with rage evident in his eyes. I'm not thinking right now, my body is doing everything without any direct command from my brain. We stay like that for a while just glaring daggers at each other. The tension in the room is so thick if I wasn't taking short, heated breaths I would choke on it. Derek is the first to break the silence.

"When they're done with you they'll kill you, you know." He half whispers.

Without thinking, without even having time to process fully what he had said I snap back, "At least I'll die finally happy."

Everything seems to freeze. Derek is looking at me with such a twisted and mixed face that I can't make out one expression from another. I hold my breath for the eternity it takes for Derek to move and when he does he simply jerks around and jumps out my window. I hear a curse from the ground below and a moan of pain but of course pain can't stop Derek because soon I see him sprinting across my lawn and withdraw into the woods.

When I'm sure he's gone for good I shrink down onto the floor of my room, being my knees to my chest and just stare at the window. I go over what had just happened with closed eyes because every time I think of his voice it sends another wave of regret and shame over my body. Is it wrong for me to miss him? To miss all of them? I know I shouldn't but these people meant more to me then I ever thought, and it took me leaving to realize this. Though it changes nothing on their end, if so maybe they hate me more. They think I caused my pack to go after them, to kill them. Which, of course, I didn't at all.

I wonder how hurt they are, how they're holding up. If Derek was able to take time out to come confront me they must be okay and safe.

Please let them be alive. Don't let them die on me, okay?

I must have falling asleep on the floor while silently pleading because when I look up its morning and I'm laying on my bed with no memory of putting myself there. I jump onto my feet and speedily get ready for school that day.

I have new questions in mind and intend on getting them answered, so at lunch time that day, without any hesitation, I strut into the counsellor's office and drop in the seat in front of Kali's desk. Her eyes widen when she looks up from a paper to see me so casually sitting in the seat when she told me to never visit.

I take the shock a step further when I place my folded hands on her desk and flash her a friendly smile.

"I told you never to come into my office," She explains again slowly, a hit of a growl in her voice.

"This is an emergency." I reply far too happily.

"What is it, then?" She is unconvinced.

"How did you know where they were?" I asked first, wiggling my body to get more comfortable in my chair. She raises an eyebrow.

"You told us."

"Is that what you told them? You know that's not true and it's not playing fair," I lean back in my chair but never break eye contact with her.

"But it is true, don't you remember? The little stories you told us? It wasn't hard to track down all the places in Beacon Hills that have all the features you so willingly described in detail," She explains with an evil little smirk.

Fuck.

I knew they were listening too closely to my stories, I mean, I ramble so much that people tune it out most of the time so I should have knew something was up when they would sit and keep full attention and even asked a few questions every time I told them a story. I'm so fucking stupid! I lead a pack of overpowered wolves' right in Derek's direction, of course I didn't mean to but the guilt is enormous and overwhelming. I don't even know how much they are hurt or if any of them were killed during the attack.

"And you told them I led you guys to them, right?" I shake my head in disbelief, "This is crazy, you had no right to attack!"

She slams her hands down on her desk and snarls with her upper lip pulled up in a growl, showing her white teeth. "We had all the right to attack! This is our land and we want them off."

"What is so fucking special about this town? Do you realize how crappy it really is? There is only one Wal-mart and the 7/11 is run by a convicted pedophile! There are so many other pretty little towns that you took claim as your own," I try not to let my voice shake in fear as she extends her nails and dig them into the table while I was speaking. "Let them be, please. Don't make me beg."

We hold eye contact for a few long moments before her nails suddenly turn back human and she leans back in her chair, a new, composed posture. Her arms relax on the arms of her chair.

"Why do you care so much? They hate you. I'll talk to Deucalion later; he decides what we'll do." She doesn't let me talk before she stands up and starts walking out of the cramped office. Though, when she walks past me, she runs her fingers seductively along me arm. It does nothing but send chills down my spine. The door slams shut from behind me.

I look through the window beside the door that looks out into the sitting room of the counsellor's office and through another window into a school hallway and watch her leave the sitting room and turn down the hallway. When I'm sure she's out of hearing range I pull out my cell phone and dial Scott's number. When the phone rings I pray that he isn't out somewhere with Allison in full intent to skip the rest of the school day with her.

He picks up on the third ring. "Stiles?" his voice is full of incredulity.

"Yeah, Scott, it's me. Meet me at my place tonight." There is a long pause on the other end.

"How can I be sure that I won't be killed by your new friends?" He asks.

"Just trust me, okay? Meet me."

"I'll think about it," he says far too quickly. I hear a girl in the background who sounds as if she's asking him something too, but I can't hear them. I assume its Allison. Scott covers the speaker with his hand and says something to her before uncovering it again, "Be alone." The ring tone then echoes out into my ear. I hang up too and put my phone back in my pocket.

I stand up, brush off my pants and walk out of the office.

I know it is a bad idea to be face to face with my ex best friend, the one that so easily let me go, but I need him to know, I need all of them to know, that I didn't betray them. That I didn't join my pack just to hurt them physically; I never considered they would even get harmed at all due to my actions.

The new betrayal doesn't feel like I thought it would. It's not a raw or devastating; I don't even feel numb like the pain from the first one made me feel. As I walk down the hallway my eyes stare down at my feet and my hands find their place in my sweater pocket. My heart doesn't ache like it did before. It didn't speed up, I didn't get nervous when I saw Kali after knowing betrayed me like I did when Derek visited me in my room, or when I saw Scott or Lydia in the halls. Maybe it's because I barely know my new pack, or because I only have spent less than a month with them. Or because I know they couldn't replace Derek or Scott, they could never take Lydia's, Allison's or the new pups place. They have a special place in my heart I just haven't realized till now how big it was.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. I never see Scott in any of my classes so he must have skipped like I thought. When I get home I cook dinner for my father, we eat while small talking then I retreat back up to my room to wait for Scott.

It's around nine when I hear Scott scale the side of my house and then leaps into my room. He uncurls his body slowly from his pouncing position while staring me down. I can't help but beam as he tries, unsuccessfully, to look looming.

"Oh my, you have grown!" I snigger.

It is like the weight I've relentlessly carried around for the past month is suddenly lifted. It's like old times.

AN: Thank you everyone for your support! c: I never thought this story would do as well as its doing. Sorry for the late update, I watched both Human Centipedes for the first time last night and... You would understand if you watched them on why I didn't feel up to writing all that much today. I got the chapter up, though! So... Thank you guys again for your support, it really means a lot. I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can. c: ~~ Shy.


	8. An Author's Note chapter

THIS IS AN AUTHOR'S NOTE CHAPTER. IF YOU ARE LOOK FOR A STORY UPDATE, WAIT PATIENTLY.

Alright I am uploading this to answer some of the story's review questions.

Firstly I would like to say that I know this story as a lot of holes and is missing things it should have, I would like to defend myself by saying that one; I have never watched season 1, 2 and half of 3. All the information I have on Teen Wolf has literally come from reading Fanfiction. If I would have watched the show I would be able to include soooomuch more material. This is my fault.

Secondly, I know my writing style is kind of rough and airy and I apologize for that, I plan to rewrite this story and fix it all up when I'm finished.

Thirdly, I thank everyone who read this story and am grateful that I have not gotten one bad review or flame since starting. c:

Alright, question/answer time.

Q: "If this is going to be another StilesxOC. Then why is this fic in the Derek/Stiles section? At least answer this one!"

A: I only ship Sterek. And when I ship something, I ship them hard, meaning if I see someone in my ship with another person that is not apart of the ship I do not like it. At all. So to answer your question, this is going to be a Sterek. At some point. I am writing this story with no predetermined plot, it just comes as I write so you'll just have to be patient.

Q: Your doing pretty good to say you haven't watched past episode. Though you do know Kali's eyes are supposed to be red right? She's part of the alpha pack, unless your doing things differently. Anyway looking forward to the next chapter.

A: First off thanks! I really appreciate that. 3 But anyway, I realized this fuck up when you told me. I had completely forgotten about the eyes and such. Thank you so much for your input. c:

This comment makes me smile everytime I see it.

mistersilver: "Longer chapters please!  
I NEED MOAR." Just, the comment and the avatar picture. Take a look. It just.. Makes me laugh so much. 3

Anyway, thanks everyone for your feedback! I've gotten way more then I expected out of this story. ^w^ The next chapter will be up tomorrow probably, its going to be longer... and at the moment I hate how it is turning out so I'm probably going to have to edit the fuck out of it. ~~~ Shy.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight.

AN: Alright, bros, I have decided that when I'm finished with this story, I'm going to go over it again with a super edit pen and fix it, since this is mostly a beta, and repost it. I thought it would be a good idea to warn you guys, um. Kay, here's the next chapter~~

I was relatively surprised when Stiles name came across my screen with an incoming call. Allison and I were cuddling in the back of the Lacrosse field at lunch when he called and I thought I was seeing things. It wasn't until Allison asked me who it was, the worry in her voice bringing me back from my cloud of confusion. We exchanged bewildered looks before I accepted the call and brought the phone to my ear, my eyes never leaving Allison's shimmering chocolate ones. "Stiles?"

"Yeah, Scott, it's me. Meet me at my place tonight." Stiles instructs promptly. I don't know why but I assumed his voice would have changed in the last three weeks. I was unprepared to hear my best friend Stiles on the other end of the line. Though, I never thought I would be able to talk to him again and I never had the faintest notion that he would speak to me at all. Allison touches the back of my hand and smiles. I shake my head slightly and look down at our hands in the grass.

"How can I be sure I won't be killed by your new friends?" I ask softly with a sad frown. Allison senses my discomfort, like she always does, and slowly turns my hand over and slides her hand into my palm, interlocking our fingers. I smile at her but I know it doesn't reach my eyes.

"Just trust me, okay? Meet me." I frown again.

"I'll think about it," I blurt out barely after he finishes his sentence. I take a deep breath to try and calm my heart.

"What is it?" Allison whispers. I cover the mouthpiece with my hand but keep my ear to the speaker in case Stiles says anything else.

"Stiles asked me to meet him at his house later. Well, asked is the wrong word, I mean he commanded me to meet him at his house later." Her cute, brown eyes brows push together on her forehead.

"Why would he want to meet you?" I shrug.

"And his friends?"

I shake my head, "I dunno." She frowns again while bringing our conjoined hands onto her lap, stroking the back of my hand lightly with her free fingers.

Deucalion knew just where to find us, knew when to strike. Yesterday when the pack and I were in the back yard of the Hale residence, Deucalion's pack showed up before we even had time to react to their scent. They roughed us up a bit but nothing serious, until Kali said she's surprised she hasn't killed Stiles already because he was so annoying. Derek was in her face in a flash, teeth snapping. I'll never forget the smile on her face as Deucalion and she dragged Derek off, the rest of their pack fought us off so we couldn't follow.

He came back to us the next morning, only partially damaged. We all smelt the earthy spice scent of Stiles on him but didn't say anything.

"I think you should go. We need to take any chance we get to try and win him back." She murmurs with her gaze plastered to the ground. I nod.

"Be alone," I end the call and pocket my phone in my jeans and groan. "I hate this."

"I know you do, we all do. Come on, we have to tell the others," She stands up and pulls me up with her by our joined hands. We walk the field hand in hand but a silence between us that isn't normal but has become so for the past three weeks.

Our first thought to go is to the parking lot as Derek sometimes comes to visit the others during lunch. When we round the corner, and to our luck, I catch sight the expensive black Camaro about a hundred yards away. Derek is leaning against the door with Erica and Boyd standing in front of him with grins spread across their faces. I smile a bit when I see both of them beaming. Smiling as been a rarity since Stiles left, it feels good seeing the pack actually have a good time for once.

For three weeks the entire packs' lives' have been just one giant vortex of feelings no one understands. The tension when we're together is unhealthy for a group of people that are suppose to be family. A family that lost one of its leading members. Everyone is snippy, angry but also guilty, and confused all at once. Erica even broke down last week in tears after Jackson teased her, when Derek wasn't around, for being a girl. She was the first one to break from the stress. Lydia and Jackson broke up a few days ago over a pity fight that escalated into Isaac holding Lydia back as she screamed death threats to Jackson's face. They made up yesterday but not without me and Isaac having to sit them down and convince them it was just because of the stress everyone has been going through.

Stiles leaving was a huge blow to all of us including Derek. He has been trying to help everyone through the sudden chances, Stiles being gone and the new pack, but if you look closely you can see that his usual poker face as morphed into something a wounded dog would wear, one that denies feeling any sort of sadness since the hyperactive kid's departure. Erica once asked him how he felt about leaving and he simply replied with, 'I'm glad he's gone, I've hadn't had any headaches since.' No one questioned the flutter to Derek's heart at the obvious lie.

The last few days have been the worst, ever since our last pack meeting. Isaac complained that Derek had no good movies, Jackson bitched about having no food to snack on, Lydia talked about research she had been doing and needing someone to compare it with, then went on a rant about how stupid everyone was and how its cruel to make her do all the book work on top of all the magic stuff we ask from her. Derek bit the head off anyone who even looked at him the wrong way. Boyd was his standard quiet self, but got into a tiff with Allison over seats. There was no comic relief or distractions like there would have been if Stiles was there. He relaxes people, makes them mellow when all they want to do is yell. Hell, he has made Derek back down and sit when he was about to explode.

All humans and supernatural creatures need an anchor. They need someone or something to keep them grounded when they're lives is a tornado storm around them. Stiles is our anchor. All of ours. It's true that I have Allison and she is my anchor, and I am hers, but Stiles was just someone that everyone just needs around, but very few get the privilege to know.

Erica and Boyd turns to us when Allison and I approach them. "Hey, guys!" Erica greets, bounding the last few steps to us with the biggest toothy grin on her face.

I look to Allison with raised eyebrows and she shrugs back then lets out an "umf," When Erica assaults her with a out-of-character hug. Allison awkwardly pats her back until Erica lets go and beams at me.

"What's with her?" I look at Boyd while pointing to Erica who is now talking the ear off of Allison.

"She's excited." Thanks for stating the obvious Boyd. Good job.

"Over...?"

"Stiles, of course!" Erica squeals, bouncing over to stand beside Boyd, linking her arm with his. "He wants to meet you, yes?"

"How did you know? Were you listening in on us?" Erica's smile widens, I didn't think it was possible but okay.

"No, no. I heard Stiles call you. Finally, we can get him back." Derek crosses his arms uncomfortably, probably due to Erica's pitch. She's practically yelling in his ear.

"You eavesdrop on Stiles?" Allison asks suddenly.

"Oh course, we have to make sure he's okay, don't tell me you haven't looked for him in the halls to be sure he's still there. We all watch him, he's one of us."

"But he's not." Derek's head snaps up from previously being angled to look at his shoes like they are the most fascinating thing in the world. He pushes himself off his car by his back.

I shudder, "I mean, he doesn't think he is... I didn't mean it like that." I blurt out quickly, trying to smother the flames that are growing in Derek's eyes with a quick cover up. "That's why I agreed to the meeting; I want to show him how much he means to all of us, including you Derek." Everyone looks at Derek who shrinks away from their gazes. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I have been his best friend since we have been in diapers and I don't even think I took it has bad as you did." I continue, shoving my hands into my pockets midway through. Allison hums in agreement and Erica nods.

"He's right, you're denying it but we can all see the impact this has had on you. I've noticed those unflattering bags under your eyes and you mope twice as much as before," Lydia chimes in when her and Jackson walk towards us. Lydia and Allison hug the way in their usual way of greeting one-another. Lydia then steps up to Derek and gives him an understanding, sympathy smile. "We know you caved and went to see him after the attack, and we don't blame you, we want him back with us as much as you do."

"What if he doesn't want back? This meeting could very well be an ambush." Derek says. He doesn't meet Lydia's eyes but instead looks to the side. I have had my fair share of dealing with denial in every way. I've dealt with Danny's denial on his sexuality back in seventh grade, I've went through Allison's denial when she found out about her families 'hobbies', and even Stile's denial after the loss of his mother, but none of these come close to Derek's denial. It is like pulling teeth out of a shark with only a pair of tweezers, a werewolf shark with bushy eyebrows and a beard.

Ever since the attack Derek has been completely different. The mere mention of Stile's name affects Derek in a whole new way. Something had happened when Deucalion took Derek away. Whether it be just a whole lot of hitting, I did spot a bruise on his arm when we were training, and talking or not, but Derek needs to get his shit together, he needs to finally accept his feelings.

People think I'm dumb and oblivious to things around me but I've caught Derek watching Stiles when he thinks everyone's' heads are turned. I have heard the way his heart jumps when the teen is near him or when Stiles addresses him at all. He has been this way for months prior to the blowout, so I know Derek has fallen for my best friend in a way only wolves can, like me to Allison, but I also am absolutely certain he will never do anything about his feelings because he is, and always will be, in denial. Deep, dark denial.

"Then we'll all go, we can wait in the woods or something." Isaac suggests and I think we all smirk in triumph when Derek hangs his head in defeat.

"Fine." He mumbles.

The lunch bell blares across the school grounds signalling the start of the next class. I grab hold of Allison's hand and we break off towards the school after saying our quick goodbyes.

" My place, seven!" Derek shouts at us which gets a thumbs up in return.

Derek parks his car around the corner from Stile's house and everyone piles out.

It's around nine so it has just begun to get dark, just enough for the street lights to turn on and cast the shadows of our dark figures onto the pavement. Derek insisted on staying in his loft for hours until Jackson, Isaac and I literally pushed him into the car. He said he wanted to make sure we all knew what we were doing and how much of a risk this is, pointing out that last time we made contact with the other pack. Personally, I think he was full of shit and was just nervous about being around Stiles again. Denial Derek.

When we got close to the Stilinski house the others tip-toed around to the side and crouched on the grass. Jackson makes a pointing gesture up at Stile's window. I nod before turning away and nervously jog away from the house a few meters then take a deep breath, wipe my clammy palms on my jeans, then beeline for the house. I bound over the group, climb up the siding of the house to window then slide inside.

He is waiting for me with a pleasant smile.

Fuck.

"Oh my, you've grown!" Stiles chuckles out. My lips twitch but I quickly recover. Derek said not to be soft, 'don't mess this up, Scott.' His voice echoes through my mind. 'This could be our only chance'

Stile's smile gets bigger, but only for a few short moments then it disappears. "We need to talk. Look, I heard about the fight and I want you to know that I'm sorry for being a part of it. I never meant to tell them where you guys were or anything, it just came out, you know..." I hear someone's breathing hitch outside and a few scattered gasps. No one wanted to believe he had anything to do with the ambush. I had hoped that one of the twins had overheard one of us give away our base location during a conversation during school. Or that Lydia had given away the information during one of Aiden and her 'talks' before the mutual ending of the relationship when the both packs get head to head.

"We're fine, no one was hurt anyway." Because Derek took all the blows for us.

"Derek came in here and bled all over my floor so don't give me that shit." Stile half shouts at me. He drops his head into his hands and sighs, then lifts it out and runs one of his hands over his face and continues in a slower, more careful voice, "I'm worried, okay? Deucalion is scarishly strong and so are the rest of them. I just don't want any deaths to be on my conscious, you get me?"

"Scarishly?" Oh, Stiles. My lips twitch again.

"It's a word."

"Sure it is." There is giggling outside, then shuffling in the grass. "Sh!" Someone hisses. Thankfully Stiles doesn't hear anything. "Anyway, its okay. Don't worry about it, alright?" I turn around to leave as I assume the talk is over.

"Why is it okay?"

I freeze. I suddenly wish Stiles had called someone else to meet with, but only momentarily. This is an honour that he would call me, his best friend who had abandoned him so many times.

"Because I trust you. I know you wouldn't hurt us like that on purpose." I say, my back still turned to him.

"And the others?"

What do I say? If I tell Stiles how they're doing or what they think about over all this in any way they don't like they might actually kill me. Or Derek would, and maybe Jackson. Erica would defiantly rip me a new one if I say the right words. I sigh and slowly turn around to face Stiles, who had stood up.

"They miss you, we all do. And we're sorry fo- for pushing you away like we did." I breathe out all at once.

Stile's eyes widen a fraction but his heartbeat stays even.

"How can you not mean too?"

Stiles is always moving. I've been his best friend for almost fifteen years and besides sleeping, I have only ever seen him stay absolutely still twice. Once when he lost his mother; he didn't move for hours, just sat in the small waiting room while doctors, family and friends filtered through. It took him weeks before he could even function properly, it was the worst I've ever seen him. The second time was three weeks ago when he thought he officially lost all of his friends, he didn't twitch, shift or play with something like Stiles usually does.

When someone is rampaging at you in complete anger you expect them to stomp around, throw things like Derek does. It's never seems as dire when they do for some unknown reason.

That's why seeing Stiles perfectly still is the most nerve-raking experience I have ever witnessed.

I wipe my hands on my jeans again.

"What I mean is... That, um," I bite my lip. I have to tell him the truth, I can't lose him again. "What I mean is that I didn't mean to forget about you, Stiles. Really, Allison... I've never been in love before, you know that, and going through my... transformation has made everything I feel more intense, including love. It kills me to say this, Stiles, but I just... forgot about you for a while." I huff out in one breath. I feel his gaze on my head but refuse to look at him. "And you know Jackson, I mean... He didn't think you would actually leave, you know? He's sorry too, for what he said. Everyone misses you so much, Stiles. We need you with us. We've all been a mess since you left, like there hasn't been anyone to keep us grounded or make us laugh. Don't get me started on pack night..." I chuckle nervously. I can feel my face get redder and redder for every excruciatingly slow second that goes by and want to say something, anything, to get rid of the intense pressure. "I miss my best friend Stiles. I need him back."

"What about Derek?" Stiles whispers, a second or so later, in such a low tone that I'm sure if I didn't have wolf senses I wouldn't have been able to hear him.

Someone curses from outside and there is some scrapping along the house. "Derek!" Isaac cries out, more than loud enough for Stiles to hear.

"You brought them? You said come alone!" Stiles shouts, running over to the window to peer out into the darkness. "Jackson? Erica?" He shouts out.

He is answered with a loud warning howl. One Derek uses to signal us of impending danger.

Stiles must know what it means too because he quickly turns away from the window and grabs my hand, pulls me face flush to the window and then jumps on my back.

"What the hell, Stiles?!" I try to shake him off but the kid has an iron grip of my neck and waist.

"Go! Jump!" He points at the window and tightens his legs around my waist, like you would do to a horse.

I'm a motherfucking horse.

I overlook the comment and I jump from the window with Stiles clinging to my back like a monkey. When we land intact on the grass the only thing I spot left of the pack is Lydia's ugly pink purse abandoned beside the house.

"Where'd they go?" Stiles asks.

"Quiet." I hiss. I hold my breath then let my advanced hearing reach out. I hear Stile's rapid breathing behind me and ignore it. I hear the sirens of a police car a few blocks away and disregard that. Finally I catch the struggles of our pack somewhere in the woods beside Stile's house. I exhale the held breath and then, without wasting any more time, I floor it to the path in the woods, Stiles grunting from the sudden pull but still keeps a strong grip on my back.

"It's the Alphas! Scott!" Erica hollers from someplace deep in the woods. I change my course slightly to follow where I heard Erica's voice.

"Keep Stiles back, don't bring him." Derek yells out after her. His voice comes from the general direction Erica's does. I keep on course, not once thinking about following Derek's instructions. He should know more than anyone that if I drop Stiles off, he will come on his own. It's safer this way.

"Derek?" Stiles calls out, his heart rate speeds up considerably and he shifts on my back. "Derek!" without warning Stile's hand snake into my pocket for a second and then his hand returns back around my neck.

"What did you do?" I ask quietly. I then feel Stile's breathe in my ear as he whispers.

"Mountain Ash."

I nod. I can hear them more clearly now, and am surprised to find that we're actually almost out of the woods. I had no idea how fast these fiends were, and with six extra wolves they're carrying? Oh god.

Stiles and I enter a glade in the woods, close enough to the outside that I can make out a white building behind the thin layer of trees on the other side of the clearing. In front of the boarder of trees, a few yards away, are our pack lined up on their knees with Deucalion's pack stationed behind them. Stiles plummets off my back and lands ungracefully on his butt, but quickly picks himself up and takes a step to stand beside me. We ignore his hilarious entrance, as it's not the time to be laughing; I see a few of our packs' mouth's twitch, though. We then carry on to suspiciously make our way over to the large group.

Stile and I both simultaneously stop a foot or two away from our pack, and all eyes are on us or Deucalion could be staring at the moon, who knows. But it is Deucalion who breaks the silence with a clap of his hands with an unsettling wolfish grin on his face. I clench the small, but lethal, pouch in my pocket.

"So we all meet again."

Another AN: ALRIGHTY. I edited as much as I could, but I have been so busy the past two days with... Minecraft. Sorry! I know how much you guys want this chapter and I'm sorry I couldn't post it sooner, don't hate me! C: ~~ Shy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf in any way, shape or form.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine.

"So we all meet again."

"Sorry to interrupt your little heart to heart but business is business." Ennis says as he puts his hands on Boyd's shoulders and squeezes, from the look on Boyd's face it must be painful.

Stiles giggles and all eyes, but Deucalion's, snap to him.

"It's just; you said... um, two pairs of words... uh, Sorry, continue," He covers his mouth with his index finger.

Kali sighs and rolls her eyes, but other than that no one reacts to his natural immaturities, no one from my pack for sure because we are very much used to it. "As I was saying; we usually wouldn't hassle ourselves with such pests as this pack as proven to only be, but we require something from them and we aren't really asking." Ennis states while looking directly at Stiles, who shies away from him.

"What do you want?" I bark at him.

Deucalion laughs from his position behind Derek and claps again. What the hell is with this guy?

I peek at Stiles and see that he seems confused too with Deucalion's behavior.

"Finally, we're getting somewhere!" he chimes. He hoists up his cane from its leaning position against his leg to the hold it loosely in his hands, twirling it around in the air in front of him. "Now, what I'm looking for is a smart, young man that's strong as a human, and will be stronger as a wolf," He brings a finger to his chin and taps it thoughtfully. "I want you." He points straight at Stiles and leers wickedly.

Stiles doesn't seem all that surprised by his request, and shockingly smiles quite kindly at him. "We've already discussed this; I'm not becoming a werewolf."

"I do believe Ennis did say that we aren't really asking," Deucalion says nicely back. "Don't you want to be strong like us? Be able to finally defend yourself and not rely on others? You're exposed, unarmed, and powerless compared to even the humans in this little assembly you call a pack. No one wants to be a bother, Stiles, so just take the bite willingly."

Stiles is suddenly angry. I can smell it off of him in thick waves. Derek lowers his head. His smell is similar to Stile's fuming, but worry, and lots of it, clings to him as well. We catch eyes but only for a moment because he casts his eyes downward in what looks to be embarrassment. Stiles huffs loudly beside me, snapping me out of my observation, then lifts his head to stare right into Deucalion's shielded eyes.

"Excuse me for not being trained since birth like Allison, or being immune and magical like Lydia. Too bad I wasn't born a wolf like Derek, or a pathetic coward that I had to blackmail a bite from Derek only to turn into a freaky Kanima only to kill dozens of people 'cause I was a fucked up psycho. Maybe if I was a even more of a loner like Boyd, I might'a would'a wanted the bite just to make friends. If my mother's cancer would have been diagnosed to me, I might have asked for it because of my health." He looks to each member of the pack as he tells their stories without any names, but he doesn't slow down. "I could have easily gotten bit if I wanted to back when I was sixteen if Scott was the one to talk me into going into the damn woods! If I wanted to be bitten, Deucalion, if I wanted the power, I would have agreed to a long time ago. By Derek and only him." All the tea in china could not make that kid's voice more spiteful. He was nearly growling out the last line. Derek's mouth turns up into a small smile at this.

Kali snarls, her eyes turning red, and leans over Erica and right into Stile's face. "We weren't asking."

"What, so this is going to be against my will? Like bite rape? I'm not sure you're supposed to tell me before you rape me with your teeth. Oh, that sounds bad," Stiles throws right back at her in an amused tone. She growls lowly, leaning back to stay straight. She's obviously not pleased. Excellent.

"Why are we here then? You could have changed him days ago without anyone to stop you." Lydia asks in a small voice. Ethan hits her shoulder which causes you to gasp, wince but otherwise keep her composure.

"No no, it's a good question." Deucalion shakes his head slightly to Ethan, who frowns in confusion, Deucalion holds up a hand to hold back Ethan's questions and continues, "Why are you here? Maybe it's simply for a show, some added excitement to the performance. Or maybe it's so he'll have an audience for his demise if his body rejects the bite. Both are valid reasons for me to bring along his old friends."

It's low and growing. A deep rumbling of someone's throat as a demonic growl starts to erupt from Derek. I've only ever seen watch dogs do such a warning noise that it is baffling to hear it come from a grown man.

It is abruptly cut short when Deucalion snaps Derek's shoulder harshly with his cane. The force is strong enough to cause Derek to fall forward so he's on his hands and knees. "Hey now! We don't need any of that."Deucalion laughs out along with the rest of his pack. Before I can even protest, or even make a move to say something, Stiles is dropping onto his knees in front of Derek, shouting, and to everyone's surprise, running his long piano fingers through Derek's hair.

"Derek! What the hell, back off!" Stiles cries out at Deucalion, who seems more pleased than anything. I put a reassuring hand on Stile's shoulder and nod to him when he looks back at me. He then stands back up, and steps back suspiciously, giving Deucalion's pack warning stares. Derek hasn't moved at all in the whole ordeal, only has been breathing heavily to try and calm down.

"I'm not joining you, so you can forget it!" Stiles yells with a new kind of fury.

Deucalion frowns at this.

"How do you think this is going to end? You think we're just going to let you go into your happily ever after with all your friends?" He gestures both hands out motioning to all of his kidnap victims. "We can easily get rid of you if you don't comply, so it would be best if you did." He smiles, "What's so bad? You get to be strong, fierce and succeed the common herd. Plus, you would be joining my pack officially. To be trained under not one, but five Alphas? It is a privilege." Push your own buttons, why don't you.

"I don't want to be a part of your pack."

In less than a blink of an eye, before anyone could even react at all, Deucalion flings his arm out. The pose is similar to a jousting move with his cane as the sword.

I don't even register what he just did until Erica howls out, "Stiles! Oh my god!" The rest of the pack does similar chores. Its then when I look to Stiles.

I don't know what to make of it.

Stiles is hunched forward with his hands gripping the cane with two bloody hands. Deucalion had lodged the staff into his shoulder. He did with such ghastly, inhuman strength that it plunged right through Stile's shoulder and is poking out the other side. The blood oozing out around the cane came fast and showed no sign of dawdling down, I even heard Boyd almost gag as he can't stand to be around an excessive amounts of blood.

After what seems to be ages of absolute stillness Deucalion jerks out the cane from Stile's shoulder. Stiles then drops to his knees, his hand over the wound as he tries stop the bleeding. I go to catch him before he falls to the side, but I don't have to because Derek in there in a flash, holding the whimpering Stiles protectively to his chest.

I lunch forward, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I only have one thing in mind; Payback.

I went for Aiden first, clipping him in the jaw with my knuckles. This causes him to stumble back in shock, clinging his chin. This lets Isaac go, who turns around and cuffs Ethan in the neck with his arm, a semi cloths line. Ennis leaves Boyd and jumps Isaac, who then transforms with teeth snapping. Boyd pulls Aiden from my back, turns him around and punches him square in the nose. Aiden does get a few punches in between Boyd's. One right in the mouth, too. Kali also leaves her captive and opts to join Ennis in circling Isaac. Me and Erica exchange looks, nod and quickly transform along with Isaac.

My vision goes red and things become more intense. Erica breaks off to help Isaac the best she can while I turn my attention onto Deucalion.

Through everything nothing between these three has changed. Derek is still cradling Stiles against his chest and Deucalion is casually wiping the blood off his cane with a handkerchief in front of them. He even smiles when he sees me approach them.

The only sounds I can hear are the snarls and snaps from the packs' warfare behind me. I can hear every crack of Boyd's fist against Aiden's face. There is also a soft mumbles sound in a different language. Lydia. Jackson is shouting and teasing, actually teasing, the other pack as they circle them. Then there's the thump of Derek's speeding heart and the gasps of Stiles as he desperately clings to consciousness.

"Nice of you to join us, again, Scotty boy. Would you so kindly tell Derek to let go of the boy?" Derek hisses at this. I've never, ever, seen Derek so hostile. It's frightening because that's all Derek is.

"Why would I do that?" I slowly ask.

"Because its either Stiles gets turned and Derek dies. Or... Derek lives and Stiles dies." He proposes, tilting his head to the side slightly in a curious manner. "Either is fine by me."

"You're making me choose?" I ask, eyeing him in disbelief. "You can't make me choose."

"Oh, but I can. I will." He blows the end of his cane when he finishes polishing it clean. He then brings it down in front of him and leans on it a bit. "Go ahead," He impatiently gestures to me when I don't answer. "Choose."

I look down to my Alpha and then to my best friend. Stiles doesn't seem too far off from blacking out and the only thing keeping him aware has to be Derek whispering encouraging words into his ear and running his hand through his longer brown hair. I cannot ever take one from the other, not now. It's pretty clear that I would never put Stiles up on the chopping block, and I know that if I put Derek up for dead, then Stiles wouldn't be the same.

I slump my head in defeat. "I can't choose."

He lets out a exaggerated sigh. "Maybe if you see that you didn't have a choice..." He says mostly to himself. He nods at me and flashes forward. He grabs the front of Derek's shirt and with ease lifts him up above the ground. Derek doesn't get a chance to fight back at all as he lets go of Stiles before he is lifted, not wanting to harm him anymore I assume. Before I can grab Stiles and cart him to safety for myself and for Derek, someone picks him up and pulls him in a rough, body shield kind of hold in front of them.

Ethan must have slipped away from the group brawl, which seems to have quieted down, and was the person Deucalion nodded to. I was too distracted to smell him coming.

"Let go of him!" I order.

"Ah ah. Now, boy, how do you feel about choosing now?" Ethan snorts at this and the urge to rip his throat out only grows significantly. I glance over a Derek who is face to face with Deucalion and seems so shaken. Afriad. It almost physically hurts to see him and Stiles so torn, so incredibly lost and knowing that the key to both their happiness is so close, so easily obtainable. It takes only one of them to just get the balls to say something to the other, but both are scared of the rejection, of the change. It's understandable, but very, very irrigating to watch. I have been for years, the back and forth, the circling it's all too much.

"I told you, I can't choose between them!"

"Let... Let go!" Stiles gasps out but is unable to fight against Ethan.

"Didn't hear you complain last week," Ethan purrs into Stile's ear. Stile's eyes get huge, like a bug.

Derek's breathe hitches.

I can see the glow of his fire red eyes.

I can smell the rage. Pure rage.

It is obvious that Ethan was just saying that, some sort of smite, but it is also obvious Derek doesn't care. Ethan said it, and I know that no matter what, no matter what Derek has to do, Ethan will be dead by sunrise.

Derek, with his inhuman strength, shoves Deucalion so roughly that he is thrown back several feet and is hardly able to stop himself from falling. Deucalion flashes his sharp teeth and is instantly set to attack back, but then Lydia comes into view behind him.

"How long do you suspect Stiles would stay with you, with Derek dead?" She asks him. His stance is halted as he to turns around to face her. "Can't you see? One can't be without the other." She grins then looks around him to Derek. "Isn't that right?"

She gets a growl for her response.

"See?"

"I'm sure he'll be just fine." Ethan licks Stile's ear and smiles seductively at Derek. Teasing him the only way anyone knows how.

He knows Derek won't attack him; he won't risk hurting Stiles anymore in anyway. This doesn't stop Derek from stepping up to his face, though. Merely inches away from Stile's, but look over his head. His hand goes up to Stile's hair in an automatic, but comforting way.

"Ouch..." Stiles moans out. He bows his head and groans in pain. Ethan smiles once more and then cracks his elbow against Stile's head. Stiles drops like a bag of bricks. I listen closely for his breath, for anything to indicate that he's still alive. When I hear the steady thumping of his heart I sigh out in relief. I don't make any move to check on him. I know better than to get between Derek and his prey, which right now is Ethan.

Ethan hops over Stile's unconscious body and Deucalion, who had turned away from Lydia, grabs Derek's arms and holds them behind him. I snap forward to stop Ethan but Lydia does it first in a way no one expected.

Lydia screeches so loud that stuns everyone to a hush. Then suddenly screams erupt from behind me and I look to see a bruised and battered Kali clasping her ears with her hands while a bloody Aiden on the ground beside her rolls in agony. The only one even remotely still able to fight is Ennis who is too covering his ears and crying out. Boyd, Isaac and Erica, all cut and beaten, stand around and stare at them in confusion. Jackson is still beating on Aiden not letting go with his victory in close sight. Ethan has wide, confused eyes and is looking around like he has no idea where he is.

Deucalion looks at Lydia with puzzlement. "What a powerful creature you are...So captivating." He articulate to Lydia who had stopped screaming and is now smiling in triumph with the successful spell.

"They can't see, they're blind!" Jackson yells at us.

Derek then wastes no time at all ripping the throat out of the blinded and unprepared Ethan.

His death cry was horrendous. It will be something I will never forget, but it was all for Stiles and that I could live with.

Derek then turns to face Deucalion. The rest of our pack starts to join us, leaving the blind pack to wonder around aimlessly while cursing us out. Boyd is supporting Erica up by her waist but puts his spare on my shoulder when he gets close. I wrap my arm around his middle and hold him up before he can collapse. Lydia drops down beside Stiles and starts to pick him up but looks to me for support. Isaac nods to me and takes my place holding Boyd on his feet. I crotch down beside Lydia and together we lift Stile's up and both take sides in holding him in a standing position. His head drops and he is pretty much nothing but lifeless weight at this point. Jackson comes up behind us and whispers something to Lydia, who nods and moves carefully out from Stiles and allows Jackson to take over. While this was happening Derek had grabbed hold of the collar of Deucalion's shirt and draws him close to his face.

Then through a clenched jaw he says, "You were right about one thing; Love is a powerful thing."

AN: Mine... Craft... How was Monday's episode? I stream mine online and can't get it till around 5 tomorrow/ today. Its 3am now, so soon! Also a shout out to PersiaHalinski who gave me some great ideas and such.

P.S - Someone had pointed something important out to me, so I took down the original of this chapter and posted up a new one. I'm never writing at 5am again. This is shameful to re-read over, ugh.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf in any way shape or form.


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